


Dear Santa....

by Huntress69



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Christmas, First Time, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress69/pseuds/Huntress69
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santa doesn't have the time to read all his letters, so he has elves to assist him. One such elf decides to help out a letter-writer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during S3

**Disclaimer:** Not mine, wish they were. Maybe if I write to Santa he will stuff Dean and Sam into my Xmas stocking. 

**++++++++++**

**1982  
+++++**

_Dear Santa,_

_My name is Dean and I **DON'T WANT** a new baby. I want a **PONY** , a **DOGGY** , or even a **HAMSTER** , like my cousin Alex. Or maybe one of them new things that plays movies in your house. But not some **DUM BABY SISTER**. Alex says babys cry and poop in their pants and after they is born, your mommy **AND** daddy have no time for you, and they love the baby more. Thats all._

_Love,  
Dean_

_PS My other name is **WINCHESTER** and I live in lawrence, in kansas and that is a state. oh, and please get Alex a walkman cause it's neat._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Four year old Dean looked up at his seven year old cousin. "You think Santa will **really** read it? And did you spell everything right?"

"Yep!" Alex grinned at him. "Let's get it to the mail so it gets to the North Pole on time."

They walked down the block to the mailbox, but before Dean put the letter in, he looked up at Alex again. "Maybe...are you sure Mommy and Daddy are gonna love the baby more?"

"My Mom and Dad love my sister more," Alex nodded firmly.

"But maybe my sister Samantha will be born and she'll go to potty and talk."

"They don't, Dean," Alex said with certainty. "Trust me. Ain't I always right?"

Dean seemed to ponder this and finally agreed. "Yeah, you are." He dropped the letter in the mailbox. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five and a half months later Dean was sitting in a hospital room with his parents, staring at the small baby in his Mother's arms. "What's her name?"

"She's not a girl, Dean," Mary laughed. "Doctor Anders made a mistake."

"Then what is she?" Dean asked innocently.

"A boy, silly," Mary laughed and pulled back the blanket. 

"Is his name Samantha?" Dean asked, taking a closer look.

"No, sport," John grinned. "That's a girl's name. His name is Samuel, after your Grandfather."

Dean took the tiny hand in his own. "He's little."

"He'll grow, Dean," Mary said. "Would you like to hold him?"

"I might break him."

"You won't." Mary placed Sam in his arms. "See."

"Sammy," Dean said.

The baby wailed.

"Babies cry, Dean," Mary added, seeing the frightened look in his eyes.

"Sam, stop crying," Dean told him.

Sam's crying ceased almost immediately.

"I think I'll call him Sam. I don't think he likes Sammy."

Contrary to what Alex had told him, his parent's didn't love Dean any less and had lots of time for him. In fact, they seemed to have even more time for him. 

John made it a point to take Dean to the garage every Saturday, watching him work on the cars, something John hadn't done before the baby was born. 

When John was off, Mary would take him to the zoo, or the movies, anywhere they could spend time alone. 

Both his parents gave him extra hugs and best of all, they let him hang out with Sam.

Dean was enamored of his baby brother, who only seemed to cry when Dean called him 'Sammy'. He didn't mind that Sam pooped in his pants and didn't talk. Sam would sit in his lap, not making a sound, while Dean watched TV. Dean decided that Alex was wrong and that babies were fun...except when they got stinky or spit up on you. 

Six months later his nice, safe world came apart....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_1986  
+++++_ **

_Dear Santa,_

_Sorry I haven't written to ya and sorry I asked you for a puppy and happy I got Sammy. Mommy went away, she died, daddy is sometimes not here too. But Sammy laughs and smiles and gives me hugs and I love him. All I want this year is a teddy bear for Sammy, cause he saw one in the store, but daddy said we don't have money, and Sammy cried. Also, can ya make it so Daddy don't yell so much at me? And maybe fix it so Sammy goes to the toilet at night? Daddy got mad and yelled cause Sammy wet the bed again. And I hope you can find us so Sammy gets his teddy. We been moving a bunch. Oh, Daddy says you ain't real, but Bobby says you are. I hope you are. That's it._

_Love,  
Dean Winchester_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean went to the post office with Bobby, the letter held tight in his hand. "You think he'll get my letter, Bobby? Is the address right?"

Bobby smiled. "Yeah, Santa Claus, North Pole. I think that's right, kid." 

"Dad said there is no Santa."

"Your Dad...do you believe in Santa, Dean?"

"Yes."

"Then you keep right on believing."

By January, Sam had stopped wetting the bed, Dad had settled them in Virginia for a little while, and had even stopped yelling so much. And Sam dragged his teddy bear everywhere...a toy that still had John completely baffled. It had been sitting in Sam's room on Christmas morning, and Bobby denied having gotten it. 

That Christmas was the last time Dean would ever write to Santa. For it was in September of 1987 that he ran into his first supernatural creature and stopped believing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_1989  
+++++_ **

_Dear Santa,_

_My name is Sammy. I want a hot wheels track with cars like I seen on tv and a better motel. This one has yucky towels and bugs. And can you make it so I get big soon? And can I be bigger than Dean? He picks on me and calls me names. I mean, he does hug me and smile at me and makes me laugh when I get sad and puts bandaids on my booboo's, but I really want to be bigger. I promise to eat all my veggies and get good grades and stuff. Oh and can you make daddy stop drinking for a little while? Thanks._

_Your friend,_

_Sammy Winchester_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The motel clerk was kind and put a stamp on the letter for Sam, making sure Sam himself gave it to the mailman. 

Two months later John won a radio contest and was awarded with a one week's stay at a Best Western, complete with all the amenities. He even went on the wagon and managed to stay sober for a whole three months, which thrilled both boys immensely. In addition, both boys were given their choice of anything at the toy store. Sam got his Hot Wheels stuff and Dean picked some extra cars.

Dean still picked on Sam, but Sam was never so happy as when the doctor said he'd grown a whole inch, which of course convinced Sam that it was Santa's doing, and that he was on his way to becoming bigger than Dean.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_1991  
+++++_ **

_Dear Santa._

_My name is Sam and I am eight years old. Dean told me to write to you again, cause it's been two years._

_Can I have some holy water for Christmas? And a new ritual book? I followed Dad and Dean on a hunt even tho I wasn't supposed to and helped them fight an incubus and he was mean and tried to hurt Dean, but I used **ALL** my holy water and before he burned up he ruined the Latin book I had. And while you're at it, can I get some clothes that fit me? Some kids in school were laughing at me and I got in trouble cause I beat them up, all three of them. They were bigger, but I know how to fight better. I hope that fight doesn't put me on your bad kids list, cause I'm not bad._

_Thank you very much. And if you need it, I will send you the postage so you can mail everything to me. I have six dollars saved up._

_Samuel Michael Winchester_

_P.S. Can I get a knife, like Dean has? I can throw one really good. Not as good as Dean, but almost. And also, if you give me the book, please make sure it's in Latin, because English is of no use when you're doing an exorcism ritual._

_P.P.S. Can I also have an Uzi? And a Beretta PX-4? And lots of ammo, but it should be silver. If you can't do silver, make sure the bullets are filled with rocksalt._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam looked his letter over, folded it and put it in the envelope. He addressed it carefully, and put two extra stamps on it. He was about to seal the envelope when he had an afterthought. He took the letter out and added to it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_P.P.P.S. You know what, Santa? I forgot about Dean and Dad._

_Do you think you can help Dean get at least C's in his classes? A's and B's would be nice too, but as long as they're not D's or F's, any grade is fine. Dean does try, I know he does. Oh, and maybe you can get Dean something called Biker Chicks In Leather. I think it's a magazine._

_Please bring my Dad something called a piece of pussy. I heard Bobby tell Dad he needed it. But I really don't know what we're going to do with a cat and I think Dad's allergic to them, but if Bobby said that Dad needs it, maybe I am wrong. And please bring the whole cat, not just pieces. Dean would probably think it was cool, but I think it would be pretty gross._

_Thanks again._

_Sam_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now Sam was satisfied and sealed the envelope. "You think Santa will get my letter, Dean?"

"Yeah," Dean smiled, "he will. What did you ask for, Sammy?"

"I can't tell, cause it's like a wish. If you tell, you won't get it." They walked to the mailbox and Sam couldn't reach. "Dean, pick me up."

"Only if ya tell me what you asked for."

"No, I won't. And you're mean and I bet you get on Santa's naughty list."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Then I'm not helping you mail it, so there!"

Sam's eyes welled with tears. "But if I don't mail it, Santa won't get me stuff."

There was nothing Dean hated more than seeing Sam cry. "Aww, okay, shrimp. Come on." Dean picked him up and Sam put the letter in the box. "Better now?"

Sam hugged him tight. "Uh-huh. And...I...I did ask for something for you, Dean."

"Really?"

"Yep." Sam chewed on his lower lip. "But I still can't tell you what it is."

"That's okay, Sam. I was just teasin' ya." Dean twirled him around to give Sam a piggyback ride. "And thanks. You're pretty cool for a brother."

"You too, Dean. The coolest."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Christmas morning rolled around and this year they were staying with Bobby and Dad was there too. And it made both boys happy that John stayed away from the booze for a change.

"Sam, I have something for you, and I hope you like it." John handed him a box. 

"For me?"

"Hey, dummy, if you don't want it," Dean laughed, "I'll take it."

"Uh-uh." Sam tore the wrapping off, eyes wide as saucers. "Wow! A real knife!"

"Remember, Sam," John smiled, "it's not a toy."

"I know, Daddy. And thanks." He gave his Father a big hug, then turned to Dean. "What did you get, Dean?"

Dean was staring at his present. "A...a Beretta. Dad, this is awesome."

"Your report card had all B's, Dean and I know how hard you worked in school. You deserve it."

The present Sam got from Bobby was a new book of rituals and all Sam thought was that there **WAS** a Santa, there **HAD** to be. Santa had just given Dean the gun because Dean was older.

But Dad still didn't have a cat and Dean didn't have a magazine. 

Dad did get a date with the most beautiful women in town, twins as a matter of fact.

Later on that day, Sam saw Dean looking at something he found in Bobby's desk, but he wouldn't show Sam. 

Dean just locked himself in the bathroom for a while. When he finally came out, Sam asked him if he was sick, because Dean was red in the face and he looked pretty worn out. 

All Sam got for a response was a smirk and a wink, which confused him, but he let it go. Dean seemed happy as anything and that made Sam happy.

But that was the last time Sam ever wrote to Santa.

The next year he told his Father there was a monster in his closet. 

John gave him a .45 and told him to take care of it. 

And at the tender age of nine, Sam Winchester's innocence was gone for good.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	2. Part 2

**_PRESENT DAY  
+++++++++++_ **

**Somewhere in the North, North, North...okay, it's so far North that even the spy satellites can't see....**

**++++++++++**

"Whistle while you work, it's a hap-hap-happy tune...."

"Will ya shut up, Milo?!"

"Yeah! We ain't the seven dwarfs!"

Milo stuck his tongue out at them and went back to work. He was one of the younger elves and had been working at the North Pole for about 50 years. Even for an elf he was disgustingly cheerful. And that was why he got the crappy jobs...and the crappy kids. He was the elf that got kids like Tom, who wanted to be Clark Kent ( **not** Superman) when he grew up, and Quinn, who wanted to travel to other worlds, and Paris (which was a stupid name, Milo decided) who still wrote about ten letters a year whining that she wanted to be a movie star. He was still working on that one.

And being he was _low-man-on-the-totem-pole_ , the first letter from Dean Winchester had been dumped on him. None of the senior elves wanted to deal with yet another kid who didn't want a new baby in the house. And when the letters came in from Dean's brother Sam, they too were given to Milo. 

He'd had fun with these two boys, even though the letters were rare, a total of four. Dean wanted a teddy bear for his brother; Sam wanted to stay in a nice motel. There was the exorcism book, which had taken him a month to find, and the Beretta, which Milo had opted to give to Dean, simply because he was the older brother. Holy water was simple, although the skin magazine had taken some doing. Both wanted their dad sober and that was easy-peasy. Milo had just taken a quick trip down from the Pole and snatched up the bottles. And when Dad had the urge for more his car battery died or he got a flat or the liquor store mysteriously closed. Eventually Daddy would give up, but not without using language that expanded the elf's vocabulary considerably. 

Milo got Sam's second (and last) letter just before Sam turned nine. He figured Sam was one of the kids whose Dad's told him there was no Santa. 

But now, almost seventeen years later, a letter was left in his inbox...from Sam Winchester. That in itself was a bit odd. Sam was in his twenties now and few wrote to Santa at that age anymore. Nevertheless, he opened the letter with glee....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Dear Mister Claus,_

_Sorry, but I think it may be inappropriate to refer to you by your first name anymore. I don't know if you remember me, but my name is Sam ( **NOT SAMMY** ) Winchester. I am nearly twenty-six now, and don't even know why I am writing to you. Maybe because it is making me feel better. _

_I am hoping you will read this letter, even under my current circumstances. As I am sure you know, I have been tainted by evil, and I am almost certain that gets me directly to the **NAUGHTY LIST** , do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars, etc. You get the picture. _

_My older (but not bigger, thanks to you) brother Dean did a very stupid thing. Yeah, stupid, even for him. As I am sure you are well aware of, Dean is not the brightest crayon in the box, even in the set of sixty-four colors. He's like a forty watt bulb in Times Square on New Year's Eve, and if he were a cartoon, he'd probably buy more Acme products than Wile E. Coyote. But don't get me wrong. He may not have an IQ as high as mine, but he's street-smart and would do anything for me. And anything is (unfortunately) what he did._

_I was actually killed, (yes, as in **DEAD** ) a knife in the back, but Dean couldn't cope with it. _

_So what did the idiot do? Why he made a deal with a demon so I could have my life back. His soul for mine. And the moron can't even negotiate! Everybody gets at least ten years, most more. But my genius brother? He settles for one. Yes, that is correct. One year. I have been trying to find a way out for him, but all roads lead to nowhere. I even confronted the demon, (who, strangely enough, looked like an ex-girlfriend) and shot her right between the eyes. If the _tainted-by-evil_ didn't get me on the bad list, I figure her (it's?) execution most definitely will...but I **HAD** to do it._

_It did no good anyway, because it seems somebody else holds the contract on Dean's soul._

_What I am asking you for, is a copy of the contract so I can read it over. I figure there has to be something in writing and maybe I can find a loophole, a clause (pardon the pun) that will get him out of the deal. I did pretty well in contract law when I was at Stanford._

_By the way, thanks for all the stuff you got me years ago, Yeah, I know you don't exist, not really, but it sure was nice to think you did it all._

_That nice motel, the Hot Wheels, Dad sober, oh, and Dean's girly magazine. It took me a few years to figure out what Biker Chicks In Leather was. I did finally pass him in height, although he still picks on me._

_One last thing._

_I'm pretty sure you don't do this sort of stuff (after all you **are** Santa Claus, a **kid-friendly** guy) but I would really like it if I could have sex with Dean. No, not sex, I mean, yeah, but...I want to make love with him. You think you could skew his sexuality and make him like men? I mean me, not men in general. See, a bunch of years ago, I figured out I loved him as more than a brother and have been wishing he'd love me the same way. You know what, never mind. You don't give presents to the naughty kids and suggesting incest is beyond naughty. So just forget about it. _

_That's pretty much it._

_Sincerely yours,_

_Samuel Michael Winchester_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Milo read the letter three times and knew he would require assistance for this one. Deals with demons were out of an elf's league; they were for the fat and jolly one himself. So Milo went to see his boss. 

"Milo, I don't understand. Who is this from?"

"Oh," the elf grinned, "they were given to me twenty-five years ago. Dean and Sam Winchester."

Santa spewed cocoa all over himself. "WINCHESTER!"

"Hey, big guy, you okay?"

"You were given...Winchester?"

"Yes."

Santa pondered this. "And they actually got gifts?"

"Well, Santa, every year they've been on the good list."

"Let me check that...." Santa pulled up his lists, so happy he'd gone to computer. Years before it would have taken days to go through the lists and checking them twice...and sometimes thrice. But with the modern age he located the names immediately. And sure enough, right there, under the header of **GOOD THIS YEAR** were the names Dean and Sam Winchester. He went back twenty years and every year there they were. "Well, I'll be damned." He perused the presents requested and those received. "You potty-trained a three year old?"

"Sam was almost four and he and Dean shared a bed, and it wasn't fair to Dean...."

Santa sneered and read on. "A hotel room? Do you have any idea what kind of dent that puts in **our** budget?"

"Bugs, sir, and scratchy towels."

A **harumph** from Santa, who kept reading. "Milo, you gave a twelve year old a nudie magazine?"

"He was almost thirteen, sir, and believe me, his knowledge of sex was broader then most 20 year olds." The elf was bouncing happily. "And if you'll look, I also gave Sam a knife that year."

"And he was all of eight also. Peachy. Books on exorcisms, holy water...at least you didn't give him the Uzi."

"I checked with your Jewish counterpart, but there were none available. The Israeli hunters wanted eight each for all the days of Hanukkah, and since Hanukkah fell two weeks before Christmas that year...."

"Milo, children need to earn good grades on their own."

"Dean did, Santa. I mean...okay, I admit, it was supposed to be C's, but Sam wanted it sooo badly."

Santa read further, eyes bugging out. "Please don't tell me you gave them a cat. Pets are always a no-no, and I **always** leave that up to parents."

"No. I knew what Sam wanted, so I got his Dad a date with a pair of big-busted blondes." Milo was grinning again. "I tried 'em out first though, sir, to make sure they were good enough."

"I'm thrilled." Santa's upper lip curled. "Milo, from now on you are **not** to have anything to do with hunters. Nobody is supposed to but me and Mrs. Claus. They ask for the strangest things and they continue to write, even when they're older." He paused, flushing redder than usual. "Actually, many of them want a night **with** Dean. I've had nine requests for him this year...so far."

"There was one request for Sam," Milo told him, "from a Gordon Walker. I didn't see him on the good **or** bad lists."

"That's because he's on the **shit** list - never gets anything, not even a lump of coal."

"Yes sir." Milo turned to leave, but turned back. "Santa, what are you going to do about Dean? He **is** on the good list again this year, along with Sam."

"I'll think of something." Santa shooed the elf out, and began to contact others. He networked, trying to find out who held the contract. It was coming close to December 24th and he had millions of gifts to deliver, but if Sam and Dean Winchester - especially **Dean** \- had managed to stay on the good list, it was worth looking into. 

It took him six days to obtain the information and locate the contract. And he was going to have it personally delivered by his most reliable messenger.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You sent a letter to Santa Claus!" Dean was in hysterics, laughing so hard he had tears streaming down his face. 

"How did you know?" Sam was both embarrassed and livid. "Tampering with the mail is a felony!"

Dean put his palm up, calming down. "The motel clerk said the mailman brought it back because you didn't put a stamp on it." He started laughing again. 

"You read it? Dean, how could you?!" Sam was bright red. The things he had written....

"Relax, little brother. I didn't read your letter to Santa. I just put a stamp on it and mailed it." Dean was calming again, especially when he saw the hurt look on Sam's face. "Sammy, I wasn't laughing at you." He gave Sam a genuine smile, but just as soon started giggling again. "What did you ask him for? A date with someone who wasn't demonic?" 

"I asked him for your contract." 

Dean stopped laughing. "My contract?"

"I figured that if I could read it, maybe I could find some loophole to get you out of it." Sam bit his lower lip. "I've tried everything else, Dean, and we're running out of time. You don't have much left." He fought back his tears. "Dean, you only have seven weeks before the Hell Hounds come."

"Sam," Dean reached out, palming his cheek, "I did it, and I'm not sorry. I just hope...God, Sam, I don't want to die knowing you hate me." He pulled back, lowering his eyes, staring at his feet. 

"I don't hate you, Dean, I love you. You're everything to me. Brother, best friend, teacher, protector...." Sam stopped just short of saying lover, because that hadn't happened and wasn't going to. "You're my hero, big brother, you always have been, always will be."

Dean continued to stare at the floor.

"Dean, why won't you look at me?"

No answer.

"Dean?" Sam dropped to his knees before his brother, tilting his head, staring up into Dean's face, realizing why Dean hadn't looked at him.

Dean was crying, and not tears of laughter; these was tears of sadness, shed in silence, slowly cascading down his cheeks.

"Dean, don't...please don't do this." Sam pulled Dean into his arms, the way Dean used to when Sam was small and suffering from nightmares. 

"I'm sorry, Sammy...sorry for leaving you alone...s-so f-f-fucking s-s-sorry...."

"Shhh," Sam murmured, rocking his brother back and forth, "we have seven weeks to raise Hell and I say we take a break from hunting and do nothing but cause mayhem."

Dean let out a laugh. "Mayhem, Sammy? You?"

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "We drink, we brawl, maybe...steal a car or two." Sam laughed himself at the shocked look on Dean's face. "I love the Impala, but I always wanted to drive a Porsche or a Lamborghini."

Dean wiped his tears away and actually giggled. "Why would you wanna drive those pieces of shit?"

"Okay, Dean," Sam conceded, "nothing compares to the Imp...."

"If we're gonna do it," Dean grinned, "we swipe a Corvette or a Jaguar XE."

"Stop crying, Dean," Sam grinned back, "or I steal us a Yugo."

"How about we get some dinner," Dean suggested. "We hit up the fanciest place we can find, order the most expensive dishes and drinks and cut out before the check comes."

"Sounds good." Sam nodded in agreement. "But you really have to wash your face or I'm going to start calling you Deanna."

"Fuck you, Samantha," Dean laughed as he headed into the bathroom. 

"I wish," Sam whispered under his breath.

"What was that, Sam?"

"I wish...nothing Dean," Sam gave him a soft smile. "Just thinking out loud."

"Well, stop it, 'cause people will think you're mental." Dean closed the door behind himself, taking a deep breath. He rinsed his face and stared into the mirror. 'Seven weeks, Dean-o,' he thought. 'You'd think with such a short time left you could admit it to him. But you can't, can you?' He splashed some more cold water on his face. 'You're a fool and you have been since he was sixteen and you fell in love with him. Everybody told you to say something, even Dad. Your own father knows how you feel about your baby brother and he gives his approval. But you tell him Sam doesn't feel the same.' Dean glared at himself. 'Sure, Sam would let you touch him, he'd let you do **anything** to him; he would never say no to you. But in the end he'd hate you, really hate you. Because eventually he'd figure out he did it for **you** and **not** for himself.' He turned to the door. 'Just love him as you always have, like a brother, and be thankful he feels the same.' Satisfied, Dean opened the door with his standard smile. "So, Sammy, you find any place to eat?"

"La Misareta, where the cheapest dish is a hundred and thirty bucks."

"Sounds good. Let's go eat, drink and...cause more than a little mayhem."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anytime a Winchester makes plans, they tend to go a tiny bit awry.

Such was the case for Dean and Sam. 

They so wanted to just have fun, but neither could have refused to help the 12 year old girl who was possessed, or the mother of four whose household was being terrorized by a malevolent poltergeist, or the young single father whose girlfriend returned from the dead and wanted to take her son with her to the other side. 

That left them with three weeks.

Sam put his foot down. 

They were doing nothing for the last three weeks. 

They were going to hole up in some motel, get loaded on greasy food and beer. They were going to get drunk, get stoned, play Monopoly, watch horror movies and nitpick, and just enjoy the time. 

And they were going to laugh and not shed one single tear.

Dean didn't argue and the two checked in to the _Chug-A-Lug Motel_ , on the outskirts of Nowheresville, Idaho. Dean didn't care what the place looked like; the name was appropriate for what they had planned. They left messages for those close to them, such as Bobby and Missouri, but didn't say where they were going, and then shut off their phones. 

Nobody was going to find them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	3. Part 3

Within three days, the motel room resembled the detritus of a wild rave and then some. 

There were DVD's strewn all over, beer cans everywhere, McDonald's wrappers. 

There were coffee cups, two empty boxes of Krispy Kremes and the room was thick with smoke and the distinct odor of pot.

They were both in the midst of a major giggle fit during their third viewing of _The Exorcist_ , after Dean jumped up and shouted that the little girl resembled Diana Ballard. 

A knock on the door and both froze.

"HOLY SHIT, BATMAN!" Sam's eyes grew wide as saucers. "IT'S THE D.E.A.!" 

"FIVE-O, BOY WONDER! DUCK AND COVER!"

That sent them both into another round of giggles.

The knocking grew louder. 

"You get it, Sammy," Dean smirked. "Just sweet talk 'em into going away. Flash them those doe eyes and gorgeous smile...." He caught himself before he said anything he'd regret. "Just do it, Sam, like Nike says!"

Sam opened the door and just stared. "Uh, Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"The smoke? There wasn't anything in it but grass, right? No hallucinogens or anything?"

"It's the weed I got from Bobby. Why?"

Sam pointed outside. "There's a...a...."

"Who's at the door, Sam?"

"Oh no," Sam shook his head. "I'm not saying it out loud."

"If it's the FBI, tell 'em I only have three weeks left and to fuck off."

"I think...Dean, you need to take this one." Sam backed away from the door.

"Whatever." Dean peered out through the open door, and turned back to Sam. "It's a reindeer." He blinked a few times and turned back to the door. "You're a reindeer."

The reindeer snorted and nodded his head.

"It's a reindeer, Sammy."

"Yes, Dean, I can see that."

"What do we do?"

"You're always bragging how you're the brains of the outfit!" Sam sat down and ran his fingers through his hair. "You tell me!"

"Uh...." Dean smiled at the creature. "Come in?"

"That was good, Dean."

The reindeer entered and Dean shut the door. "He crossed the salt lines, so he's not demonic." Dean shrugged. "But just in case... _Christo_. Nope, eyes not solid black, so he's not possessed."

"Dean, a reindeer's eyes are always solid black."

Dean took a closer look. "They're reindeer-black and not demon-black."

Sam gave him a look that clearly said that Dean was insane, took out the emergency pint of bourbon Dean kept in his suitcase, opened it and swigged. He stared at the reindeer. "Okay, are you Cupid or Prancer or Donner or Comet?"

A snort and headshake from the reindeer. 

"No. Absolutely not, Sam." Dean took the bottle and drank himself. "Quit while you're ahead."

Sam grabbed the bottle and took another deep drink. "Vixen or Dancer or Blitzen?"

"I think you missed one, Sammy. That's only seven." Dean's eyes grew wide. "Oh God, what am I saying?!" He snatched the bottle back again.

Sam counted on his fingers, mumbling to himself. "Uh, Dasher?"

The reindeer blew what was the equivalent of a raspberry.

"Shit Sam! I have reindeer snot all over me!" Dean picked up Sam's shirt and cleaned himself off.

"There's only eight, Dean."

Dean appeared to be thinking and narrowed his eyes. "Are you the other one?"

The reindeer raised his head high; he appeared to be smug.

"You got an ego, don't you? It's the song, right? Gave you a swelled head?"

"What song, Dean?"

"The one about the reindeer everybody picked on, Sam."

A snort and the reindeer stomped it's hooves on the floor.

"How come your nose isn't red?" Dean asked, reaching out and tapping the nose with his finger.

"That's a **really** good question for him, Dean. He can't talk." Sam swallowed hard. "Please don't talk. My psyche is fragile these days and couldn't deal with that."

Between the two, they finished the bourbon, sitting side by side, staring up at the reindeer.

"Okay...Rudolph...." Dean started.

"I'm glad you said it and not me," Sam snickered.

"Shut up, Sam." Dean smiled. "Why are you here?"

The reindeer nodded to the table and both men looked over, seeing an envelope.

"It's from Santa!" Sam grinned.

"Ooh, I was afraid you were gonna say that," Dean winced. 

The reindeer walked to the door, patiently waiting. 

"You want out now? Okay." Dean opened the door. "Nice to meet ya, Rudolph. Say hi to Santa for me." He smirked at Sam and peered back outside. "Uh, Sammy...."

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Reindeer...whoosh...." Dean pointed up. "It's...up, up, and away...."

"Dean, we deal with Succubi, women in white, werewolves, and you're freaking out about flying reindeer?"

"There's a bar...edge of town. We can walk. I'll buy."

"I was hoping you'd say that."

Both men tore ass out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean cracked an eye open, groaning from the pain in his head. 

"Dean," Sam murmured beside him, "my head hurts."

"Huh?" Dean opened the other eye. "Sam, are we dead?"

"I don't know." Sam sat up and quickly lay back down. "If I'm not, I wish I was."

"Me too." Dean managed to sit up and swung his feet to the floor. He felt colder than usual and looked down at himself. "Sam, I'm naked."

Sam looked under the sheet. "Oh God, so am I."

Dean slowly turned, nodding his head. "You threw up and we tossed your clothes."

"So did you, Dean." Sam actually laughed, which made him grab his head. 

"Don't move, Sam." Dean got to his feet.

"Not a problem."

Dean went to the bathroom, his vision slowly clearing. He relieved himself and washed up, brushing his teeth to get the horrible taste from his mouth. 

"Dean, I need some help."

"I'm coming, Sammy." More lucid now, Dean walked into the room and helped Sam to his feet. "Come on, let's get you to the bathroom."

Sam came out a few minutes later and flopped back on the bed. "Okay, I'm only half-dead now."

"We need...." Dean's eyes scanned the room, stopping at the coffee pot. "You stay." Dean sat next to the pot while it dripped, pouring a cup for each of them and walking back to the bed. "Drink."

Ten minutes later, both were semi-alert and Sam focused on the small table, and the envelope upon it. "Dean...."

Dean followed Sam's eyes and buried his face in his hands. "No, Sam. It can't be."

"It was Rudolph," Sam stated flatly. 

"I need more drugs," Dean sighed, getting the envelope and climbing back into bed.

"And I need to start taking them on a regular basis," Sam added.

"You open it, Sam. It's addressed to you."

"Here goes nothing." Sam opened it and began to read....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Dear Sammy (and I am Santa so I will call you anything I like),_

_It took quite a bit of work on my part, and enclosed please find the contract regarding Dean's soul. I hope it will assist you in saving him._

_There are few who would ever dream of sending me a letter at your age, most have long stopped believing. Every year, no matter what, both you **and** your brother have been on the good list. No matter what you do in your lives, it is done for the correct reasons, which is the only way you have not jumped to the **naughty** side of the list. Even Dean selling his soul has not caused a change. So if you think you have been, as you so eloquently put it, **tainted by evil** , think again._

_This is the **ONLY** copy of the contract so be careful with it._

_And boys, feel free to write to me at any time, but please ask for normal things._

_I am sorry, Sammy, but the last thing you requested in your letter, I am unable to give you._

_That is beyond even me._

_Just know that what you wish is mutual. And no, it will **not** get you on the naughty list. _

_Your eternal friend,_

_Santa Claus_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean shrugged. "So, what does the contract say?"

Sam went over it. "It's what that bitch said. You get one year in exchange for my life. If you try to break it, I fry."

"Great...just great." Dean sighed. "Sammy, what exactly did you write him?"

"That I wanted a copy of the contract."

"No, there was more." Dean picked up Santa's letter. "He writes _the last thing you requested in your letter, I am unable to give you. Just know that what you wish is mutual._ What does that mean? And why would you think it would get you on the **naughty** list?"

Sam took a deep breath and let it out. He turned to Dean, closed his eyes and whispered, "I love you, I'm in love with you and I have been for the longest time." He didn't hear anything and slowly opened his eyes, facing his brother. "Aren't you going to say something?"

"You told Santa that you loved me? Why didn't you just tell **me**?"

Sam opened his mouth, instead doing a double-take. 

"Lost for words, Sammy?"

Sam could only nod. 

"Just so you know, I love you too. I have for almost ten years, about the time you lost that baby-fat, shot an inch past me and, uh...I caught a glimpse of you in the shower." Dean smiled shyly. "I knew what you looked like before, but...Sammy, that was when I started to **look** , and look closely."

"Dad would have flayed the skin from your body," Sam stated emphatically.

"Uh, Sam," Dean chuckled, "Dad told me to tell you how I felt."

"Huh?" 

"Geez, Sam, I think I'm rubbing off on you. That _huh?_ proves it." 

"Dad knew?"

"It was hard for him to miss." Dean flushed crimson. "But I think what finally gave it away, was the night he heard me moaning your name while I was...let's just say he knew they weren't moans of pain."

"Dad approved?"

"Come on, Sammy, two word sentences are getting kind of old here."

"Dad...."

"Okay, starting your sentences with _Dad_ is really killing the mood here." 

"The mood?"

Dean propped his head in his palm. "Please tell me you've done this before."

"I've done this before."

"Good."

"In my fantasies."

"Ah."

Sam was clearly confused. "Would you prefer that you **weren't** the first man I made love with?"

"Yes."

"O-kay, Dean, you're into one word responses now. And why would you hope you weren't my first?"

"I was sort of hoping," Dean laughed a little, "that you'd know what to do."

Sam stared into Dean's eyes. "You don't?" 

"I know the mechanics, I'm not ignorant, but actual experience with a man...no."

"We can figure this out." Sam nodded firmly. "Uh, let's see...we can kiss," he grinned. 

"I know how to kiss!" Dean seemed to get excited and dragged their lips together. It seemed natural, wonderful, mind-blowing.

Sam responded by sucking on Dean's tongue, drawing it into his mouth, losing himself. 

Dean finally pulled away, gasping for air. "You're a **really** good kisser."

"You too, Dean. Can we do it again?" Sam looked hopeful and leaned in. 

"Fuck yeah!" 

The kisses grew deeper, harder, both men growing dizzy from lack of air.

"Sam?"

"Huh?"

"What do we do now?"

"I don't know. Kiss some more?"

"I'm hard, Sammy. My dick...oh shit, I need to come."

"I want to try something, Dean."

"I don't like the sound of that." Dean actually looked afraid. "What is it?"

"Just...do you trust me?"

"Uh...."

Sam looked furious. "You have to think about it?!"

"I...trust you with my life," Dean shrugged. "Uh, my soul...my heart...."

"And you won't trust me with your dick?"

"I guess I sound kind of dumb."

"More so than usual," Sam shot back.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just lay back, close your eyes and trust me."

"Okay." Dean did as he was told. "Now what?"

"Now, Dean?" Sam murmured. "Now you just feel." Sam straddled Dean's legs, and leaned down to nibble on his ear, which got him a soft moan from Dean. "Hot spot?" His lips kissed a path down Dean's face, brushing his lips. Tongues met, but only for a brief moment. Sam attacked Dean's neck, sucking on the pulse point, across to his right shoulder. "Love you, Dean." He bit down and Dean yelped.

"Shit, Sam, what the fuck was that for?" Dean opened his eyes, glaring into Sam's.

"I marked you," Sam smiled, kissing his way across to the left, biting that one as well. "Mine." Down to Dean's left nipple, tongue flicking out, teasing it to hardness. Kisses across to the right, sucking it into a hard peak. "Still with me, Dean?"

"Yeah," came the breathy response.

Sam kissed a trail down Dean's chest, along his abdomen, his own body moving to the point where he was kneeling between Dean's legs. He placed a kiss to each hip, and his mouth went lower, until it said _hello_ to Dean's rock hard cock. 

"Sammy...Sammy, suck me...."

"How, Dean?" came the innocent response. 

"How?" Dean's eyes widened considerably. "Sam, just do to me what women have done to you, that's how."

"Okay." Sam took Dean's cock in his fist, jerking a bit, hearing more moans and a few curses. He took the head between his lips and suckled, and judging by the sounds now coming from Dean he was doing it right. 

"Jesus, Sam, do women take this long with you? I know it's new to ya, but...." Dean took a very long look at his brother, seeing confusion all over his face. "Sammy, you **have** been blown before, haven't you?"

"Of course I have!" Sam drew himself to his knees, indignant at the question. He scooted from between Dean's legs, propping himself against the headboard, lips pursed. Sam was clearly pissed.

"Then what's the problem? If you don't want to, just tell me." Dean knelt beside him, taking Sam's chin in his hand, forcing his eyes up. "Sam, talk to me."

"Jess didn't do that." Sam's voice was barely a whisper. "And Sarah and I never got past making out."

"And....?" Dean prompted.

"Madison gave me a blow-job."

"Sam, are you telling me you've had sex with two women in your life and only one of 'em...."

"YES!" Sam exploded. "YES, OKAY! I'm sorry that I'm not...that I don't jump everything that breathes and has a pulse!" 

"Then I'll do you," Dean said matter-of-factly. 

"You'll do me?" Sam's mouth dropped open and he was lost for words. 

"Didn't you think I'd want to?"

"I...no."

"You're honest, baby, and I love you all the more for it."

"B-b-baby?"

"Baby." Dean drew him into a soft kiss. "My Sammy-baby." Dean blew in his ear, nibbling the lobe as Sam had done to him. That didn't seem to get much of a response, except for a sigh. 'Guess we have different hot spots,' he thought. 'And I'm going to find yours if it takes all day.' He shifted between Sam's legs and sucked on Sam's neck, getting the same response, nipping each shoulder, suckling each nipple. He licked down Sam's abdomen, pressing his thumbs into the crease of the hips...that got an "OH GOD!" from his brother. 'Found it,' Dean grinned to himself. He nipped there, first the left, which made Sam moan, and then the right, which got a string of curses that made Dean blush a bit. His fingers moved to Sam's balls, gentle caresses, which got more of a reaction. 

"Dean...that's...that's...."

Dean bent his head and sucked each ball in turn, hearing the "Oh God" and "so good" and "more, please...give me more." He was more than happy to oblige, taking Sam's dick in his fist, strokes gentle. He swirled his tongue around the tip, gathering the moisture on his tongue, licking his lips, getting his own taste of Sam. He licked the length, throwing in a kiss here and there, listening to Sam's breath hitch. Sam's cock was stiff and leaking, and Dean took the head back into his mouth, slowly sliding down the length. It was new, it was definitely different, but Dean couldn't have stopped even if he'd wanted to...which he didn't, not for a second. Sam's dick was buried in his throat and his head lifted, teasing the tip. "Is it good, Sam? Am I doing okay?"

"More than okay, Dean."

The lips slid along the length, tongue dipping into that tiny slit, before covering the head again. 

"Dean...Dean finish me...."

Dean sucked him down again, throat contracting as he made swallowing motions. He moaned around Sam's hardness, his left hand sliding up Sam's chest to tease his nipples, his right to Sam's balls, fondling them. He lifted his head again, took his hand from Sam's balls and wet his fingers, before sucking him deep again. The next move he made was to Sam's ass, rubbing his fingers along the crack, one easing inside.

"What are you....?" Sam's head shot up, eyes wide. 

The finger moved in and out, Dean raising his head as he pressed the finger in, sucking Sam deep as he moved it out. 

For a moment Sam was confused as to why Dean was touching him there, and once the thought became reality, he had second thoughts. "D-don't...."

Dean sucked hard and slid a second finger in. His left hand moved from one nipple to the next, stroked down Sam's abdomen and back up. He raised his head again, "So fucking beautiful, my Sammy...." He filled his mouth with Sam's dick again and shoved his fingers deep.

Sam wasn't sure now that he wanted Dean to stop; those fingers were beginning to feel so good. The moaning around his dick began anew and the fingers were deeper and now there were three inside him and he was moaning Dean's name, shoving his dick down Dean's throat, bearing down on his fingers...."DEAN!" 

Dean pulled back as Sam came, as wave after wave of come splattered them both. Dean didn't even think about what he was doing, his body was on autopilot and seemed to know what to do on its own. Slicking his cock with the come, he lifted Sam's right leg over his shoulder, bit the inside of Sam's thigh and began a slow slide in. 

Sam's eyes rolled back; there was pain, intense pain, as if he were being split in two. His other leg was lifted, Dean's hands on his ass, nails digging in and then...stars...and the pain was less, the pleasure taking over. Dean had touched some part within him and it was GOOD. Sam needed to take back some control and he opened his eyes, hands on Dean's shoulders, lifting himself up. He took a look down, saw Dean pounding into him and went into sensual overload.

"Sammy...it's so good...so hot and tight and...OHJESUSFUCK!" Dean let loose with an orgasm that made him dizzy, blurred his vision, took his breath away...literally. He was pounding hard, filling Sam, making love with Sam. Dean slowed after a few minutes, catching his breath, grinning, a clear look of awe and wonder on his face. "That was...oh God...." Sam's legs slid from his shoulders and he eased out, hands threading in Sam's hair, pulling him into a hard kiss. "That was...astounding."

"Uh-huh," was all Sam could say.

"Whoa," Dean sighed as he shifted away. "I need...we need...cloth...clean up. Kind of sticky."

"Okay," Sam nodded.

Dean pretty much stumbled to the bathroom, turned back to smile at Sam, and walked into the wall. "Oww." He cleaned himself and came back with a warm cloth, doing the same for Sam. He lay down, opening his arm, Sam sliding in. He closed the arm, holding Sam close to him, kissing the top of his head. "I didn't mean for it to happen like that."

Sam tilted his head up. "I know, but it's okay."

"I know I hurt you and I'm sorry."

"There was pain," Sam admitted, "but not for long." He gave Dean a kiss, putting every ounce of love he felt into it. 

"Can I do it to you again, Sam?"

Sam's eyes grew wide. "Now?!"

Dean couldn't help but laugh. "No, not now. But maybe...later. Or, uh, you could make love to me?"

"Really? You'd let me...to you?"

"Sammy, if those looks on your face were anything to go by, it would be Heaven on Earth." Dean's eyes were drifting shut and he noticed Sam's were also. "We definitely need some rest."

"Sleep and then make love again?"

"Sounds like a plan, Sammy-baby, and a good one at that."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~


	4. Part 4

Three weeks had come and gone. 

One year had vanished in the blink of an eye.

Dean and Sam's lovemaking over the past three weeks had been filled with passion and lust. It was wild and free. Hot spots were learned, used against one another in fun, every desire satisfied, every fantasy fulfilled. 

But that last day, they took their time. The touches were slow, languid. The kisses light, lips almost caressing. They were memorizing each other - sounds, sights, feelings. Every moan was heard with clarity, every look burned right into their very souls.

At the stroke of midnight, they both heard the howling, and knew very well what the ungodly sound was...Hell Hounds. 

Dean's time was up. 

Dean gathered his clothing, slowly getting dressed. "Take good care of the Impala, Sammy, and keep fighting the good fight. Keep saving lives, keep the...family business going full throttle." He appeared calm and accepting of what was about to occur. And he hadn't lost his sense of humor. "In the not-so-immortal words of Commander Peter Quincy Taggart, _Never give up, never surrender._ "

"I hate that movie," Sam said, lower lip trembling, voice clearly shaking.

"Aww, Sammy, how could you hate it? Sigourney Weaver's tits never looked so good."

"Dean," Sam glanced to the corner, "guns, rock salt, silver bullets...."

Dean framed Sam's face in his palms. "It won't work, Sam. The only thing you'll succeed in is getting yourself killed. I can't permit that."

"It doesn't matter." Sam put his pants on and picked up one of the sawed-offs. It felt too light and he flipped it open. There were no bullets inside. He went to the next gun, and the next. "Dean, what did you do?"

"The contract is binding, Sam. We have the only copy and we read it through twenty dozen times. There is no way out."

Something about what Dean had just said began to gnaw at Sam, but he couldn't pinpoint it. And then...."I don't believe it."

"Yeah, I know, bro', but it's time for me to go."

"He did it. I was so stupid." Sam was ranting as he tore his belongings apart. "It was right in front of me, in black and white and I missed it!" Sam began to laugh, softly at first, but it quickly became a hysterical fit. "THANK YOU SANTA!"

"Uh, Sam, are you...okay? Because you sound...."

"He did it, Dean. Santa did it." He pulled Dean into a kiss. "I love you."

"Yeah, me too, Sam. And I'm going to keep loving you for the rest of eternity."

"NO YOU ASSHOLE!" Sam pushed the paper in front of his face. "Read Santa's letter again."

Dean read it through and sighed. "And....? My soul is forfeit. End of story."

Sam held the letter. "He told us, and we - **we** \- were both too stupid to see it."

"Sam, I'd like our final moments to be in English."

Sam pointed to one line of the letter. "Dean, this is the **only** copy of the contract." He was bouncing like he was hyped up on too much sugar. "Where's your lighter?"

"Over there."

Sam promptly set the parchment on fire. "Ahh, now we can get back to loving each other..." he laughed again, "...for a long, long time."

"Sam, now is not the time to have delusions or a nervous breakdown."

"You don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"Hush." Sam placed a finger over Dean's lips. "Listen."

Dean was silent. "I don't hear anything."

"The Hell Hounds are gone."

"I still don't get it."

"Sheesh!" Sam rolled his eyes. "I was right. You are **not** the brightest crayon, not even in the ninety-six count box!" He grabbed Dean by the shirt and pulled him close. "That was the **ONLY** copy of the contract. Once it was destroyed, there was no more deal. It's no good without the actual paperwork."

Dean pushed him away and shook his head to clear it. "You mean without that piece of parchment...."

"The contract was null and void. There's no proof there was ever a deal." Sam punched the air. "YES!"

"I'm going to live?"

"That's what I said, Dean." Sam sighed. 

"Wow." Dean gave him a blank stare. "I'm not going to die."

"Well, you will eventually. Duncan McLeod you're not." Sam smirked. "But not in the next day or so."

Dean slipped his jacket off. "Does this mean we get to have more sex?"

Sam took his pants off and tossed them aside. He lay on the bed, legs spread, stroking his hardened dick. "Lots more. I say we try to set a record for most orgasms in a 24 hour period."

Dean tore off his shirt, undid his pants and sat down to take off his boots. "Can we still eat McD's every day?" 

"No."

"Beer for breakfast?" The pants came off, along with his boxers.

"No."

Dean lay down. "Krispy Kremes for dinner?"

"No."

"Sixty-Nine?"

"N...I hate you, Dean."

"Is that a yes?

"Shut up and turn around...."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Dear Santa,_

_I figured it would be okay if we were on a first name basis again._

_I'm not asking for any gifts because I have Dean now and anything else is worthless to me. Well, at least this year. I mean, no, that came out wrong. Dean will **NEVER** be worthless to me. I meant gift-wise, that I might have a request or two next year, but I promise they will be simple. I will never take advantage of your kindness._

_We're back in business, saving lives, fighting, as Dean once said to me, the **good fight** , keeping the demons at bay. _

_This is just a short note to say thank you for giving us our lives back...both of us. I now know that without Dean, I may have been alive on the outside, but inside I would be dead. I never realized how much I took him for granted over the years, not ever contemplating that he would not be with me until the end._

_That's it._

_Regards to Mrs. Claus and your elves and reindeer, especially Rudolph. Please give him a bonus this year because he did an outstanding job._

_Sincerely,_

_Sammy ( **Yes, you can call me that** ) Winchester_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sam sealed his envelope and glanced over at his brother. "Dean, are you writing your thank you letter to Santa?"

"Not yet."

"How come you're not done?"

"Well, Sam," Dean smirked, "my forty watt brain doesn't work too quickly and I'm writing with crayons I ordered from Acme."

"H-h-how d-did you....?" Sam sputtered.

"You didn't handwrite the letter, doofus," Dean laughed. "You wrote it on Word and didn't delete the file."

"I didn't mean...." Sam gulped. "Oh, Dean, I am so sorry."

"Relax, Sammy." Dean slid his arms around Sam's waist and kissed him. "I think I'm at least sixty watts, my color is Sky Blue, and I always wanted a pair of those Rocket Roller Skates."

Sam sighed in relief, leaned in, but paused. "Wait a second, if you read the letter, then you knew how I felt about you."

"No, Sam, I didn't know until five minutes ago, when I attempted to title my document _Santa_ and it told me there was already a file by that name." Dean rolled his eyes. "Now make yourself scarce so I can write my letter in peace." He waved Sam back. "Go do something useful, like taking our car in for an oil change."

Sam beamed at him.

"What?"

"You said **our** car, not **my**."

"After what you did to me on top of the trunk last night, I have to concede that she is **ours**."

"I love you. Dean." Sam gave him a kiss. "Bestest big brother ever."

"I know," Dean preened and stole a kiss of his own. "Now go on. It's kinda private."

"I'll be back ASAP!" 

Dean waited until he heard the sound of the Impala fading into the distance before he wrote his letter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Dear Nicky (If you can call him **Sammy** , I can call you **Nicky** ),_

_Thanks for helping me get my soul back. Yeah, yeah, I know it was a mistake, (I promise to never, **EVER** do it again) but Sammy was right and sometimes, when it comes to him, my head is shoved up my ass. _

_Do not, under **ANY** circumstances, tell him I said that or I swear his head will swell and I'll never hear the end of it._

_We both know I'm not as stupid as I seem, but Sammy doesn't need to know that either._

_He doesn't need to know that I can enlighten anybody as to all the elements on the chemical tables, recite Hamlet in my sleep, perform calculus equations with my eyes closed and give him the formula for Coke. (Yeah, I stole that when I was twenty-two and Dad and I worked a job for the suits that run the place)._

_But I digress._

_This year for Christmas, there are a few things I want. I figure, since I have been on the good list for thirty years running, and never really asked for anything, I got a lot of time to make up for. So here are my top 13 (it's my second favorite number, and I don't want to overwhelm you with 69 requests) for this year._

_I want:_

_1\. Backstage passes for - AC/DC, Metallica, Twisted Sister, Bruce Springsteen, Bon Jovi and Santana._  
2\. Front row tickets to Oprah.  
3\. A video iPod. But **NOT** an iPhone, because I think they suck. I like my Android.  
4\. An 80 inch Surroundsound HDTV, with top of the line Bose speakers and a DVR. You can deliver those to me care of Bobby. And throw in a CD player for my (other) baby, complete with Sirius satellite radio, (and some new car speakers also) so Sam will shut up about it.  
5\. The movies Traci Lords made before she was eighteen, so I can judge for myself if she **looked** underage.  
6\. The entire Friday The 13th collection in blu-ray and the AC/DC boxed sets, both CD and DVD.  
7\. The name of the second gunman on the grassy knoll (I **know** there was one, no way Oswald acted alone) and the secret identity of DB Cooper. And maybe photos of J. Edgar in drag so I can prove to Sam he was a cross-dresser.  
8\. Please get rid of Ruby. That demon is driving Sammy up the wall.  
9\. Please get Bela a boyfriend. Maybe you can set her up with Bobby. **They** could have that hot and angry sex she keeps asking **me** for. And I want my lottery tickets back.  
10\. Imminent death got rid of my fear of flying, so please give us two tickets to the Bahamas, any island will do, as long as it has private beaches, preferably nude ones, and a casino. And please make the tickets first-class, because Sam needs lots of leg room. This will also mean passports, but I will pay for them if you can speed things up and get rid of the waiting period.  
11\. Wipe out the police records in Saint Louis and Baltimore and the few others's I have racked up. But those first two are haunting me. Also, get rid of Sam's as an accomplice and destroy his 27 speeding tickets. And while you're at it, put Agent Hendrickson in traction. He deserves it for the awful remarks he made about Dad.  
12\. Give Diana Ballard a promotion to Chief of Police.  
13\. Get Ellen Harvelle some money so she can build a new and improved Roadhouse, and make Jo leave me alone. Maybe you can hook her up with Ash.  
14\. Put Gordon Walker in a padded cell or solitary confinement before I have to shoot him and end up on the **naughty** list. 

_Okay, so that's fourteen. I'm certain I'll have more next year, but that will do for now. And in case you're curious, I didn't ask for anything for Missouri because she always says she has everything she'll ever want or need._

_Oh, wait, I have one more._

_15\. Please make sure Sam stays well. I don't want him getting sick or nothing. I love him with all my heart and it just destroys me when he gets something as simple as a sniffle. And he deserves a new teddy bear, because the one you gave him all those years ago got left behind in a motel in Duluth, which is in Minnesota, a state._

_Give Rudolph some extra Reindeer Chow, or whatever it is he eats._

_Yours Truly,_

_Dean_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean looked his letter over and put it in the envelope, satisfied he hadn't missed anything. He was about to seal it when he had an afterthought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_P.S. I am enclosing two photos from a magazine, and I know its short notice, but I am **REALLY** hoping you can deliver by Christmas morning. I'm sure you can find us wherever we are. Not only will it make me happy, I am sure Sam will enjoy them also, probably more than I will. In fact, I am **certain** he will._

_Thanks again._

_D_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean placed his letter in the envelope, sealed it, addressed it to _Santa Claus, aka Saint Nicholas, aka The Fat And Jolly Guy, Somewhere In The North Pole Or Thereabouts_ , and sent it air mail to make sure it got there on time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**_DECEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH....  
+++++++++++++++++++++++_ **

Dean woke up bright and early Christmas morning, giving a chaste kiss to Sam, who just grumbled something (Dean swore it was an Aramaic curse) and turned over, burrowing back under the blankets. He went to the table and saw the cookies and milk were gone, smiling when he saw the teddy bear with **I BELONG TO SAMMY W.** emblazoned across it's chest. He then noticed the brightly colored-packages addressed to him, all numbered. 

He opened the attached letter and read....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Dear Dean (and if you **EVER** refer to me as Nicky again, I shall make it so you suffer from limpness, if you get my drift),_

_Yes, you were correct in that you have more than a few gifts coming to you. Mrs. Claus and I have managed to accomplish what you asked for, and here is your (completed) list:_

_1\. Backstage passes for all except Santana. They are not on a touring schedule for the coming year. But if that changes, you will receive them._  
2\. Oprah tickets are backed up for three years, but I managed to get you front row seats to a Doctor Phil show about brothers.  
3\. You **have** to share the iPod with Sam. Those are very hard to come by this time of year. And **NO** downloading porn or I will take it back. Don't forget, I know **ALL**.  
4\. The biggest HDTV I could locate was seventy-three inches and I got you JBL's, because I think they sound better then Bose. The DVR has been delivered to Bobby as well. And I would have gotten you the CD player for your Impala, if **YOU** wanted it, but since you just wanted to shut Sam up, forget about it. Ho-ho-ho, just kidding. I will make sure it is installed one evening when you are asleep, because elves do not work in front of people. (And knowing you, if you saw them near your precious car, you'd blast them full of rock salt.) As for your satellite radio, you have XM because Sirius does **not** offer Oprah and the Led Zeppelin channels, and I thought you would enjoy those more.  
5\. Traci Lords' films are a no-no. I do not condone child pornography, whether she looked overage or not. But as a consolation, you now have all the films she made once she was over eighteen.  
6\. Here is Jason Voorhees at his finest, and as a bonus, I have included Jason VS Freddy. I hope you do not go deaf with the AC/DC collections.  
7\. There was **NO** second gunman in Dallas, I give you my word, ( **everybody** asks for that) and DB Cooper will remain a mystery as he gave all the money to charity. I do have one photo of Hoover in a black teddy and I have enclosed it.  
8\. Ruby went back to Hell a month ago and I guess you didn't notice.  
9\. Bobby has not been out of bed for a week and it is a good thing he has both a strong heart and a sturdy bed. As far as the lottery tickets, they were obtained through the use of that evil rabbit's foot and I cannot give them to you. However, they went up in flames, so Bela will not get them either.  
10\. Let me know what island you want and I will arrange it. And if you go to the post office, you should be able to get the passports within seventy-two hours. Even I cannot do better than that; these things take time. Mrs. Claus will take care of the cost. And don't push it with the airplane tickets. You'll fly coach and like it, although I will make sure you have the front seats in the cabin so Sam does not get leg cramps.  
11\. The two records are gone, but you still have to contend with being arrested for various/smaller indiscretions, such as theft, grand larceny, impersonating a forest ranger and peeping. Sam, however, has a clean record. And FBI Agent Hendrickson will be in the hospital for quite some time. Rudolph took care of that one; for some reason, he likes you.  
12\. Call Diana Ballard and congratulate her on the promotion.  
13\. Ellen received an insurance check and has been in touch with contractors, and Jo and Ash have been getting along **very** well for over six months now. Don't you pay attention?  
14\. Gordon Walker has been remanded to the **Wingate Psychiatric Facility for the Criminally Insane** , the lockdown ward, and personally, I had a jolly time getting him in there.  
15\. I do apologize, but I have no control over sickness. Just make sure Sam eats balanced meals, takes vitamins and gets a few hours of sleep per night and he should be fine. And I am well aware of the location of Duluth, as I deliver to all fifty states. 

_As far as your final request, I didn't want to, but Mrs. Claus said there was nothing wrong with it, and made me get her the same. Hopefully I will be in some semblance of decent condition to deliver presents next year, because if I'm not, guess who's going to do it for me? **BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!**_

_That is all for now, Dean, and please make your list a bit shorter next year._

_Take care of Sammy and cherish every moment you have together._

_Yours,_

_Santa Claus_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean went straight for the largest package and tore it open. When he saw what was inside, a huge grin plastered itself on his face. He looked up, "Thank you, Santa," and leered at the sleeping figure sprawled across the bed. "This is going to be a good day, Sammy." He walked back to the bed, holding the handcuffs in his right hand, the dildo in his left. "Oh yeah, the best Christmas ever...."

**FIN**


End file.
